


November Story

by LittleBluejay_SingingSongs



Series: The Things We Did. [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: B/c Christopher is a police officer, F/M, Going Out For Coffee, Longing, M/M, November 2020 story, Shooting, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs/pseuds/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs
Summary: Christopher at work. He has a job! An insane escapee attacked a guard and two pedestrians.George, Parents and photography.Christopher, pining for George.What is happening?
Series: The Things We Did. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993306
Kudos: 1





	1. Christopher starts his new job.

A siren and screaming filled the air.

The driver screeched to a halt, while looking at his partner. “From here!”

The officer jumped out, braced a rifle over the roof of the patrol car, took aim and fired. A hundred yards away a man, prone, over a woman was hit in the shoulder. He proceeded to reattack the woman with his good hand preparing to hit her head against the cement.

“Take the shot!” The second shot hit the inmate in the top of his head, traveled down his neck and into his chest. He died landing on his victim. The driver, an officer of 20 years sped to the victims. The rookie, of one week, ran the distance. Both men looked over the area as if they were the one’s being hunted.

Two women screamed and cried as they wandered in front of the prison for the crazy.

The rookie made sure the EMT vehicle knew where to go by pointing and waving at the woman on the ground. Later, in the hospital she recovered enough from her concussion to speak, with a voice raspy and distorted from the horrible bruising done to her neck.

A woman cried helplessly, kicking at the man on her friend. The EMT’s determined she had a broken arm.

The rookie held the third woman. She looked shocky and barely moved. He worked to make eye contact with her. “You’re safe now. You’re here. Your friends are here. Do you see them?”

She did not reply, but she did look at the friend who was standing. He slowly led her to the ambulance. How did she come to be so far away from the other two? He mentally marked where he found her.

The rookie scanned the area; building, lawn, long driveway with various vehicles, fence. What did he know? An insane inmate, escaped and attacked a guard. Where’s the guard? The inmate attacked three women who were attempting to film him as he was being beaten? by the guard. What should he expect to see? What was wrong with this picture?

Where was the guard? Where was the transport? If there was only one inmate, what happened to the transport? Was one of the guards involved? Were his and his partner’s firearms the only weapons in the area? He looked at the institution, it appeared to be in lockdown. His partner found the guard and was asking for a second ambulance, when it arrived behind two more police units. Sirens were turned off.

The EMT’s took the woman from the rookie and wrapped her in a blanket.

Today was a ‘heavy’ news day. The incident barely made it into the papers. “Inmate killed while escaping. Guard saves two. A full recovery expected.”

Officer Christopher Bellisario learned the finer points of filing from a patient civilian. She promptly returned to typing. He didn’t sigh. Until a doctor allowed him back to active duty all he could do was listen in on his partner’s work. Patiently the older officer instructed the younger, “Go file. It’s for the best.”


	2. Clean up.

George spent most of Halloween with his parents and Henry. The few minutes he was with Christopher he said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied. The moment, the look between them was intense. And then they were interrupted. And then the party was over and he was leaving with Henry and Brad. Saying their goodbye’s to Christopher’s and his parents and he couldn’t go back inside to find Christopher to say goodbye to him.

If he’d known it was the last time he’d speak, he’d see, Christopher, he thought he would have made more of the moment. But, what would he have said?

The next day he took his coffee and another, new, travel mug of water out to the dock. Christopher did not paddle by. He and Brad took down the skeletons. The day after was a repeat at the dock. He suddenly felt foolish, if his parents were watching him, right now what must they think? He went back inside. When he returned to Christopher’s to drive his parents to the airport, Christopher’s mother came out to see them off.

His parents were the same as he remembered with the exception that his father no longer called him names or ignored him. That was good. It was better now, more like before he went through puberty. At the airport they hugged and kissed him goodbye, out in public with no one watching. George was his father’s son again. And it felt good.

George continued to drink his morning coffee on the dock while he watched the sunrise, alone.As the sun rose a little later each day, he often walked out and walked back. A couple of days there was a storm, soon he was done with his coffee before the sun’s early morning glow. That was when he stopped going out altogether.

He concluded Christopher must have started showing up at about the same time his parents must have arrived. Which meant they’d been here watching him and Henry taking photos within a week or so of their moving in? He tried to determine the connection between his parents and Christopher. Or Christopher’s parents. Nothing was obvious.

The coming and going of the heater and the movement of the food from the refrigerator most likely meant Brad and Christopher knew each other’s phone numbers. When did that happen?

He kept pushing thoughts of Christopher aside, he had work to do. Without Henry around he’d come up with a crazy idea. He made dark pictures, almost black, when lightened, parts of Henry were almost visible. Then he mixed up old photos of Henry with artsy types he’d taken long before he met Henry. Many of his photo’s of landmarks, flowers, and animals, he never knew what to do with them. So, he reused them, mixed with Henry. Always very dark. Gradually they lightened to a dark grey and colors began to be seen, part of a tulip with part of Henry’s hand. He particularly enjoyed that the photos now implied Henry had been to San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Then he discovered the basement. The next photos were high key. An empty featureless brilliant white photo was followed by a collage of the rings and hooks that jutted out from the plaster. He bought some handcuffs and had them hanging from two rings. The last frame was floor to ceiling with nothing but the white wall with silver handcuffs, up near the ceiling hanging empty, open, as if waiting.

He had made plans for where the story was going. The basement was taking the story into a new direction. Where was he going next?


	3. Desk duty.

Officer Bellisario finished filing the stacks of papers and files. Christopher watched the typist. He sighed. The typist turned to him, her fingers still typing. “Are you all done?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Start on those.” She waved behind him. Each filing cabinet had stacks on top. Enough for a week or more. He looked back at her desk and the two stacks she was working on.

“Yes, ma’am.” She was already back to typing. He filed.

He lost track of time as he daydreamed of his few visits with George. George left the Halloween party without saying goodby to him. One minute he was talking to Melba Davis, George’s mom, he went to get a drink and George, Brad, and Henry were gone. What else was there for him to do? If he tried to kayak before work, it was dark out. Kayaking after work a few times didn’t work either. George wasn’t out waiting for him, or he simply didn’t know when he’d be coming by. He was not about to whine to Brad or Henry either.

The room was quiet. He looked around. He was alone. He ate the sandwich he brought from home at his desk.

George’s hair was longer on top and sometimes flopped down on his forehead. He liked that little flopping part, but it was nothing compaired to the view of his rear. George must stand a lot. He thought over all time times he’d watched George taking Henry’s pictures. He often froze in one position, like someone aiming a firearm! He had an ah-ha moment. He googled taking pictures. George must be taking longer exposures and handholding the camera still. Everytime George is taking pictures he is also getting an isometric workout. No wonder he’s thin. Unconsciously Christopher smiled. One of the first times he’d seen George he was wearing blue jeans, no shirt and work boots. George looked amazing in those jeans.


	4. Where does Brady sleep?

Henry turned off the well lit main road and slowed into the dark subdivision. He relaxed and enjoyed the woodsy streets and pulled into the garage. The aroma of dinner cooking wafted around him as he stowed his suitcase and coat in his bedroom. He almost left the room before he remembered to move his Passport to the bedside table.

“Hello?”

Brad exited the kitchen and gave him a smile.

Henry smiled back, “I’m glad to be home.” 

Brad placed the hot dish on the table. “Okay, Henry,” he pulled out a chair for him, “have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

George brought out a chicken roasted with fruit. He nodded to Henry, sat and watched as Brad served. He left the room and returned with his camera. Henry looked at Brad and gestered to his dinner plate. “Thank you for making this.” George took a photo.

Brad surprised at George taking a photo, replied, “You’re welcome. Glad you like it.”

George set the camera down on the coffee table and rejoined them.

Henry teased, “Who said anything about liking it?”

Brad guffawed. “Is this something you usually do?”

George and Henry looked at each other, smiled, then looked at Brady. “I suppose so.”

Brad looked at George, “You make it look easy.”

They finished eating, cleaned up the kitchen together and split up. Henry to the shower, George to start a fire in the pit, and Brad to start the propane heater. Brad went back inside and returned wearing a sweater. George sat on the swing thinking and looking into the darkness.

The thought that he was now a part of a group made him smile. Where did Brad get the sweater? Where was he sleeping? Fearing the answer might be, sleeping with Henry, kept him from asking.

Henry joined them. He sat cross legged on the deck with a beer and a cigarette.

Brad moved from the bistro chair down onto the deck, to join Henry, “Hey, when did you start smoking again?”

“This? I don’t really. The last time I had a one was, let me think, it was in the summer and we had moved here.” He glanced at George. “So, August?” George watched how Henry held the cigarette in his left hand, put it to his lips, took a pull, waited a moment and blew the exhale up and to the side. Everything Henry did he did with a certain uncaring and attractive grace. He leaned forward to tap the ash in the fire and wrinkled his nose, “They do get a little stale after a while. I don’t know how that can be. They’re made of dried up leaves.”

“Spices do the same.”

“Do they?”

“Yeah. At first you don’t notice. Then, you run out and you buy new ones. What a difference.”

“Hm. How rude of me. I didn’t ask if you wanted one?” He held out the bottle.

“No. I’m good.” They both looked at George.

“No. Thank you. We need to work out some of our arrangements.” Brad tensed. Henry didn’t. “When we start taking pictures again Brad wants to be involved.” He gave them a good long pause while Brady streatched out his legs in front of himself.“Brady you can cook. So, I could easily see him doing the food for our photos, from now on.”

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it.”

George looked into the future and decided that was a disservice to Brady. “That would be horrible.”

“What?”

Henry laughed.

“Better you become an equal partner.”

“A partner.”

“Or an employee. Something. I work on the themes, the stories, and plan out the look includingthe food, to support the story. Brad you should be a part of that creativity. A part of those conversations. The more time spent on planning the less time spent on taking the actual pictures.”

“I just show up and eat, or walk, or sit, or read.” Henry smiled. “I have the easy part.”

George grinned at him. “You do it so well.” Henry laughed. “I’m thinking that refurbishing a house has a lot of planning? So, you know, the more time spent on the details in the beginning the easier it is! Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Also, location work always has a lot of carrying, packing up and tearing down. And, as much as I hate to say this.” He huffed. “I should teach you about all our pictures so far. Just to get you into the groove.” George looked into the darkness again.

“It doesn’t sound difficult.”

George sounded wistful as he added, “Teaching,” he huffed again. Teaching wasn’t what he wanted to do. Neither was constantly giving orders or requests. “Teaching. Also, training you and then you slowly learn how much time and details are involved. And I think. I’m fairly sure you’ll move on. One day, you’ll be gone.

And, then there is where you are living. Are you a guest? Seems like it. Or do you want to be part of the house, too?”

Brad’s eyebrows jumped up. “That’s right you two own the house.”

“It’s not totally equal. Henry made up the difference and I’ve been paying him back.”

Henry took his empty bottle to the trash. “One part of our earnings goes to George, one to me. One part goes to pay for everything. This.” He waved to Romy’s decorations.” He sat.

“One part goes to photo business. So, one half of the food. Some mileage and gas.”

George added, “Some props. Those red mugs. Some clothing. The red sweater.”

“And then we didn’t know how to pay for everything else. Like the part of the food not used for pictures. So, we made the part, that George calls, “Cash on Hand.”

Brad counted, “You divide every check into five?”

George continued, “Four. Me, Henry, photo and everything else. And we should see a tax accountant, because of taxes and who knows what else we are missing? The house is a seperate thing from the business. If we add you in, then we divide by five from now on. That doesn’t solve the problem of housing.”

“I don’t know what to do? Do you want me to pay you rent?”

George wanted to ask where was Brad sleeping? “You’re doing all the cooking and I think you’ve also been cleaning the place. And you did the decor out here. And the stuff for Halloween. You are one of us.

Henry looked back and forth between the two men, finally he asked, “Are you two sharing a bed?”

George held his face steady and gave a tiny, “No.”

Brad burst out laughing. “No!”

“Then where?”

“In the attic.”

George jumped off the swing, surprised and asked, “The house has an attic!?”

Henry stood. “How do you get up there?”

“Come on. Show us.” George and Henry each pulled Brad up by an armpit.

“I thought you owned the place. How could you not know? Didn’t you even look around the place before you bought it?” He wiggled out of their arms and ran back to turn off the heater.

Christopher feeling like a voyeur put away his telescope. He dressed for bed swearing to himself he wasn’t going to watch any more. George’s parents were gone and there was no reason for him to keep track of or learn anything more about George. Looking at the travel mug, he tried to think of a way to return it.


	5. Dealing with death.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of the past, leads to a brief description of the death of a man’s wife and daughter.

The Doctor was careful not to give a hard “eye” to the officers. Frequently looking down and giving them a chance to think before answering or explaining what had happened to them. The officer in front of her answered each question after a “thoughtful” pause and appeared to be truthful. The Doctor was aware, he was aware, that she was aware that he was calmly waiting to be dismissed. He made no effort to excuse himself from meeting with her, was never late, and was painfully respectful.25 years she’d watched these men. She knew she’d never really know Officer Bellisario’s opinions or beliefs. She also knew the possibility existed that one day far, far in the future he might share those beliefs with a co-worker. By studying his actions and decisions over the years who he was would be evident.

“Guilt comes from taking someone’s life. Regardless of the circumstances.” She knew he waited for a question. “Sometimes guilt takes a week or more, a month, to show up.” His attention never wavered. “How did you feel after you saw the man, dead?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He inhaled and exhaled. “My aim was accurate. The woman he was assaulting was not hit by either of my rounds. And he was not able to hit her head against the pavement a second time.”

“How did you feel?”

“Yes, ma’am. The satisfaction of a job well done.”

“I am aware of the inmate you killed.” Ah, he owned it. “Do you know any of the circumstances prior to your arrival?”

“Yes, ma’am. We were informed the prison had an escaped inmate. The inmate attacked a woman and a guard. We were then given additional information, he was in the process of attacking three pedestrians outside the prison.”

“Did you know he attacked and maimed the guard to get away. However, he attacked the other four women because they were women?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was unaware of the fourth woman. I believe she was inside the building. She was not visible, nor did I hear of her at any time. I was unaware of his purposeful attacks being towards women.”

“He murdered his mother and sister. She was still a baby. He made no attempt to escape. He was assigned a lawyer, unfortunately a woman. He attempted to kill her. It was quickly determined he’d never be taught or grow out of this desire to maim women. He was in the process of being sent to a facility with no women and no possibility of a women ever being present.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’ve never heard of a facility without any women. May I have the name of the facility?”

It was her turn to pause. Did he have a desire to protest equal rights? “Best if you forget it exists. I will tell you this, it is surrounded by saltwater.”

  
  


Officer McKnight, told Christopher, Judge McMaster ruled the case a, “Suicide by Police Officer.” Christopher knew the man he shot did not appear to be suicidal. He did appear to be doing his best to murder a human being. “Let’s go for a coffee.” On the way McKnight explained he’d looked up the man’s record. “His father found the infant dead, yelled, screamed, maybe? Mother, she ran down the stairs.” They stopped for a light, he checked Christopher. “The son covered the stairs with butter. Not all of them. The one’s in the middle.” He nodded sagely. “Premeditated.” They entered the coffeehouse.

Christopher exited the shop with his coffee. An elderly man hanging onto his daughter’s arm stopped and looked at him. “Thank you. Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, didn’t do.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Christopher asked with the same expression he wore when speaking with the Doctor.

“Should have done. Give it to him.”

The daughter held out a bottle in a brown paper bag. She pleaded, “Take it. Please.”

Christopher scanned the area, then looked back and forth from one to the other. She was smiling and worried. His face was all over. Smiling, sad, angry. Guilty? Belligerent-because he hadn’t taken the bag? McKnight joined them.

Fearing they were going to leave, the man sped up his speech. “You don’t know what happened. I couldn’t do it. He was my son! He killed my baby girl. It took months for my wife to die! So!” His face flushed red, then cleared as he took a few deep breaths. “Thank you. For what I couldn’t do. Did you know he was eight at the time? Yeah.” Disgust washed over his face. “Eight. When he was eighteen they wanted to let him out!” He began mocking, “It’s been ten years he’s grown up. He’s a different person. He thinks differently now! No, he didn’t! I had a woman, a police officer waiting for him outside. He tried to kill her. He didn’t know she was a police officer! He went right back in.”

Christopher looked at his partner. How am I going to get out of this? McKnight took the daughter aside and spoke quietly with her. Christopher took a tiny step closer to the distraught father. “I am sorry for your loss. Losing your wife and daughter must have been.” The two men shared a look.

“Everytime he came up for a parole hearing. I went in.” They both nodded in agreement.

The two couples broke apart, the officers to their patrol car, the father and daughter continued down the street. Christopher observed, “Thanks for taking care of that. I. What do you say? I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to accept gifts? The man lost his family.”

“That? She’ll enjoy the soda.” McKnight gave his protégée a knowing look. He passed him his paper bag. Inside Christoper found a sandwich and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. “She’s happy. Her father will be happy, when she tells him. And you have a great gift to give to someone. Christmas is coming. Something will come up. When it does, give it away. If nothing comes up give it to the Captain. In my experience, sooner or later something always comes up.”

They returned to the station and Christopher continued his filing with a degree of blankness to his thoughts.


	6. Crossing paths.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close and too far away to even wave.

Mid morning they drove down the tree lined Main Street. George noticed the area might be a good background next spring. Early, next spring when the trees have pale green leaves. He wondered if they had flowers around the bases of the trees. Probably. He had to concentrate on the cars pulling out and into parking spaces and on the two businesses that they were headed for. They where somewhere nearby. Mom’s pushed strollers. He almost expected a kid on a bike to peddle across at an intersection.

Brady asked, “Do you like me?”

George gave up. He couldn’t drive, think and talk at the same time. He parked and turned off the engine. “What?”

“Are we here?” Brad looked around.

“No.”

“Why are we here?”

“Brad, I can’t think, talk, and drive without hitting somebody.”

“Oh. Right. What are you thinking about?”

“The same thing I’m always thinking about.” He gave Brady a heartbeat. “Pictures.”

“Oh. What are you thinking about? Right now?”

“Furniture and this place. It was great that you found the bed frame. Covering it with cardboard and using your sleeping bag works for a while. Winter is setting in. You either sleep in the third bedroom or we heat the attic. Either way you need a mattress. Bedding. A table and lamp. Maybe a clock so you know what time it is in the dark. And I’m trying to work that set of furnishings into maybe being used in a few pictures and offsetting some of the cost as an expense. The style of them is important. We are headed for a second hand shop. If we cannot find anything there, then we have to head for a different store.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And.” He looked around. A few cars including a police car passed them and moseyed up the street. “This is a pretty area. Romantic. Next spring this might look good. Also. Do you see the trees? At the base the electrical box. They have lights in them.”

“Like the one’s Romy had me hang in your trees.”

“Looks like it. At night. Can you see it? The setting sun with the lights lit, during the holidays. We’ll have to come back and check it out. If we do our advance work and it snows, we’ll be ready. What!”

“What?” Brad followed George’s gaze up the street.

George zipped open the backpack on the seat between them. Still without looking at what he was doing he pulled out a camera, removed it’s lens and replaced it with another larger lens. He briefly looked down to replaced the lens and end caps on the first lens and tucked it into it’s slot. Studying the street he readied the camera to take a picture, he tucked the lens cap into the backpack.

“George. What did you see?”

“A police car passed us.” Brad watched and waited without seeing anything of interest. Five minutes, ten minutes went by.

“George are you going to tell me what you saw?”

Softly, absently George said, “You have to learn to wait, Brad.” He held the camera horizontally, below the edge of the door, waiting.

Eventually an old man and his daughter got out of a car and dithered on the sidewalk. “What are they doing?” Then the younger officer exited the building. George rose the camera up several inches and took pictures. The couple spoke to the officer. The older officer joined them and stood in George’s way. Then he and the daughter moved inbetween the cars. The younger officer was now facing directly away from George and Brad.

“If only he’d turn back this way.” Brad sounded like he was pleading or whining. And then the officer turned and again George took his picture. The patrol car drove away. The couple continued down the street to the corner. They turned around and went back the way they came. “What are they doing?”

“Going back to their car.” George held the camera low and in front of Brad.

Brad leaned over and cupped the little screen. “I think it looks like Christopher.”

George stowed the camera. “It is.”

“Christopher is a police officer?”

George laughed, “Well, Halloween is over.” They continued the trip to the store. “Brad. Never talk about taking pictures. Out in public. Outside of the car or our house. Never. The subject never comes up. Because people, nice, innocent looking people will steal this equipment and break into this car to get it. They’ll smash the windows, break the trunk lock, whatever. Camera’s and lenses are small. Have a high resale value and they are never recovered.”

”So you have insurance?”

”Yes. And no.” They parked. George checked the backpack and shouldered it. He gave Brad a glimmer of a smile. “I think you’re adorable.” He left the car, smiling. Brad did too. 


End file.
